


An agent's field-guide to making friends (or tolerating enemies)

by noyasryuu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chaptered, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Inspector Tanaka Ryuunosuke, M/M, Police, but we have to be a couple for this undercover mission, i hate your guts, tananoya - Freeform, try not to get us killed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noyasryuu/pseuds/noyasryuu
Summary: Tanaka tilts his head to the side, staring anywhere but Suga's eyes. “But that doesn’t explain why I have to work withhim.”It's not normal for Tanaka Ryuunosuke, ace of Tokyo's Organised Crime Police Division, to turn down a challenge— whether that be an opponent on the court or a bunch of toughened-up criminals.So it’s a down-right embarrassment that somebody less than 160cm all up is making him just about slam his police badge on the table and walk out. Damn the mission and all.(Or maybe Tanaka kind of relishes having an enemy, except for one. At least, he tells himself).
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Sugawara Koushi/Tanaka Ryuunosuke
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not even going to pretend this isn't the we're-playing-a-couple-undercover-but-i-hate-you trope. There's kind of a shortage of police/ agent tananoya fics and I guess I just wanted to see this concept... so here it is! Enjoy!
> 
> (its my first haikyuu fic too!)

Tanaka had always been a good actor.

Contrary to popular belief— that he was nothing but a ball of energy and emotion without a filter— he just knew when to use it to his advantage. He let everyone believe Tanaka Ryuunosuke was incapable of lying, and then managed to slip his ruses under even the most watchful eyes. Not that he exclusively employed his *exceptional* talent in high-stakes scenarios. It was more often, for example, when he’d tip soy sauce into Kageyama’s cup of coffee after the brat had shot him a smartass comment, like “if you’re going to make instant ramen, at least put the water on the noodles, not the floor?” The younger would be left boggled as to how his drink tasted like a rusty drain. Or when, perhaps, Tanaka pretended to have projectile diarrhoea in his first year of high-school to avoid English midterms (he’d ended up having to take them anyway, naive as he was, which was a massive bummer). 

It was one of the things he liked most about going undercover as an officer: pretending you’re the least likely person in the room to be pretending. And the satisfaction of escaping with the (usually metaphorical) treasure. It was nothing like the instant satisfaction of spiking a ball, but maybe that was a sign of his maturity; he could wait longer for rewards now. (Oh, and like, the soul-crushing pressure to pay bills, rent, and general fuel to stay alive. He didn’t want to become a professional athlete and reach his peak at twenty- two and all. )

And yet, there were workplace pranks that nobody, not even quick-witted Kageyama, saw coming, ….and then there were other roles. Roles Tanaka himself couldn’t even have predicted. So maybe, he thinks, in retrospect, he shouldn’t have gotten so good at this whole ‘pretending’ thing. Maybe he should’ve stuck to office work that made him want to punch a wall, or volleyball.

The thought brews above him, palpable as a storm-cloud, as he sits in the Chief-Inspector’s office, staring blankly at the paper on the desk between them. His mind tells him it’s a brief for an undercover mission at some fancy house auction, and that he doesn’t really have a good reason to decline it. It is not life-threatening, nor physically compromising. It is about as close to a dream job as he could get, minus the whole threat-of-being-gunned-down-without-warning that being in close quarters with potential criminals will give you. Whatever; he’d always liked a bit of pressure, it helps him think— it’s why he’d spiker. And yet, his mind is already generating excuses. _I haven’t even bought my own apartment yet and they think I can pass as a young house-owner? Who do they think I am?_

And this is not normal, not for Tanaka Ryuunosuke. He’s the kind of guy who dives chest first at a challenge, whether that be an opponent on the court or a bunch of toughened-up criminals. 

So it’s a down-right embarrassment that somebody less than 160cm all up is making him ust about slam his police badge on the table and walk out. (Or maybe Tanaka kind of relishes having an enemy, except for one. At least he tells himself.)

“Anyway,” Sugawara’s voice snaps his attention back to the room. “You have experience undercover, so this shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary for you, Tanaka,” he says, and even though he’s not smiling it sounds like he is— that’s just the way he talks. It makes Tanaka feel worse.  
But, not one to cloud his professionalism in front of the Deputy, he doesn’t say this out loud. He seals his mouth into a flat line.

“Thanks,” he replies gruffly. “But… you see…” he flicks his tongue over his lips, preparing for the difficult part. “There was something you said about being a couple…” 

“Ah, yes,” interrupts Suga. His voice is like a spring breeze. He leafs the page over to point at something. “So basically, the story goes you’re both in your mid-twenties, both young entrepreneurs who’ve come into a bit of money, and buying a house together. We need this property under our jurisdiction, you see, but we can’t raise any alarm bells about acquiring it. The guy we’re also hoping to send behind bars will be at the auction. He wants it because there’s a bunch of ammunition buried underneath the property. That’s what these guys do— buy the house, bury the illegal goods, sell it off to the next link in the chain of command.”

Tanaka rubs the undercut of his head. He still buzzed some of the hair like in highschool, but the top he let grow out a little, short and silver. He tries to look anywhere but the sheet, and Sugawara’s (doleful, kind, trusting) eyes.

“Sounds like a pretty inconvenient way to deal illegal goods to me,” he says flatly.

“Well, yeah,” replies Suga. “But each… division, if you like, keeps a house for about a year, then sells it off again.

“Makes it harder to track their base.” Suga frowns. “I think it’s some sort of game to them too,” 

“M’kay,” says Tanaka. He tilts his head to the side, staring at the map of Tokyo tacked to the wall behind the deputy’s desk. Anywhere but Suga’s eyes. “But that doesn’t explain why I have to work with _him_.”

Suga makes a little sound that gets Tanaka to look at him, finally. It’s sort of an ‘oh’, and on his face, Tanaka reads surprise, maybe confusion, in the arch of his eyebrows.

“You mean…. Nishinoya-kun?”

The younger boy suppresses a groan. Even his name was enough to tick him off. Maybe because he didn’t hear it as much as he used to. It was a jolt to the system. And well, not to be a crybaby, but he thought Suga knew the history between him and the other man.

As if on queue, something in the elder’s face lights up.  
“Oh shit.” Suga sucks in a breath. “I should’ve known, with the Aoba Johsai incident last year-” he blurts, and scratches the back of his head, looking guilty. It’s not his fault, thinks Tanaka. It’s just that son-of-a-bitch’s, blame it on him. And maybe himself, a little.

“I completely forgot you guys hate each-other.”

Tanaka winces. Well, that was the straight-forward way of putting it. Though ‘hate’ sounded like they were wielding knives at each-other’s necks the moment they were in the same room. Hate sounded like impulsiveness, and petty rivalry. Tanaka liked to think he was above that- Nishinoya, he somehow sensed, did too. (Not that he spent time trying to empathise with _him_ ).

Indeed, expressing fury with physicality was typical for them both, fist connecting with skin and bone. And it had— connected— back in the day at police-training camp. But over years of honing training into something like professionalism, polishing knowledge into wisdom and impulse into skill, they’d built up veneers against that fight-or-flight instinct. Albeit, very thin veneers that could be easily cracked with a few taunting words. (Really, Tanaka had matured beyond young adulthood, he swore. But as soon as one Nishinoya Yuu was in the room he could’ve been 19 again).

Now, ‘hate’ was more about sword-edged glares and silent fuming. ‘Hate’ was refusing to be on the same case as the other, even if the ones where they weren’t playing a couple— God, _they were playing a couple_ , Tanaka realised again.

“I can talk to Daichi to see if he can find someone else to do your job…”

Tanaka stands abruptly, seat squeaking against the lino. 

“No.” It’s abrupt, but his voice doesn’t quiver. He’s made up his mind about this— it’s clear in his hard set jaw. He will not let Nishinoya Yuu deprive him of a job. He will not yet Nishinoya Yuu get the better of him, when he’s meant to be doing what he does _best_ : fooling around. (Professionally). And most of all he won’t let Sugawara, who doesn’t deserve their bullshit, go talk to Daichi- kun about this, because he knows Daichi will listen to Suga, but only for Suga, not for Tanaka. No, Daichi would probably get him back later by making him do icecream runs at 10pm— “search every gas station until you find taiyaki with redbean, this is what I pay you for!”— or tell an embarrassing story about him in front of Kanoka.

Tanaka sets his jaw. “I’ll do it,” he says. Suga looks gratified and mildly impressed, eyebrows sliding up an inch.  
He adds: “And there’s really no-one who could do a better job anyway. I’m a pro, aren’t I?”  
However he’s impressed Suga clearly comes crashing down with that statement. That’s more like him, Suga’s smirk seems to say.

He stands up to Tanaka’s level. “Thank you,” he sighs. “And you’re right. There really is no-one else, what with Ennoshita being out sick. Five-Ace.” He grins a little harder at the nickname. 

Most people in the Tokyo-metro police force knew that name, even if they didn’t know ‘Ryuunosuke’. Tanaka’s lucky number, five. Five was the number of bullets he’d shot when he took down the infamous heister, Kotaru Bokuto. Five was the number of combinations he’d tried to get into a safe with stolen jewels. There were other instances. And well, the ace part was self-explanatory. 

Suga pauses, thoughtfully. “If I didn’t have you, I’d have to ask…” His face twists into something alarmed.

“... Kageyama- kun.” 

Tanaka cracks up with him. Suga’s laugh is infectious, and Tanaka has always been able to laugh easily with the elder. But he doesn’t think he’ll really, truly feel at ease again until after this mission is over.

-x-

It’s the following day, Thursday, when Tanaka miraculously has a day off, that he receives what might be the cherry on top of the already soul-crushing sentence. Really, ‘cherry’, was too innocent a word- more of a lead hammer to the head. 

_From: Suga_

_There’s an evening soiree before the auction that all the home-buyers are attending. You’ll be showing up too, with Nishinoya. We’ll organise wardrobe, hair and makeup prior to the event, as usual._

_Also, in case you don’t have his contact, here is Nishinoya’s work number: 04** *** ***.  
Please arrange a time before Monday to get your stories straight and practice tolerating each-other’s company. Also, let me know the time, place, and I’ll send either myself or Ennoshita to finish the briefing. And to stop you from killing each-other :) _

_Text or email me any concerns!_

_Chief- Inspector Koshi Sugawara,  
Organised Crime Division of the Criminal Affairs Bureau  
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department  
1-1 Kasumigaseki 2-chome, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo 100-8929 _

It could be said: Sugawara was far more intimidating over email than in real life.  
Tanaka shot Suga a ‘got it’ message, and grudgingly typed Nishinoya’s number in. He spent five minutes coming up with the most petty nick-name he could think of to save it under. Then his thumb hovered over it. Did he call, or text? Texting was less confrontational, and he’d be more likely to keep his temper and transmit the information he needed to. But calling would be over faster. 

_Why are you being such a goddamn pussy when you literally hunt criminals for a living?_ He swore under his breath, a puff of white in the already chill September air.  
He used the cold as an excuse to lock the phone and do it later, when he was back at his apartment. He wondered briefly, as he crossed at a set of lights, if Nishinoya had his number too. And if that was the case, why did _he_ , Tanaka, have to contact him first? 

Yes, he thought. Why did he have to be the one to break the silence that had settled between them like a pact? 

_You’re being so immature,_ a voice told him. 

_Just text the bastard._ He was pretty sure it was Kageyama’s.

_You don’t even know if he has your number, and if he doesn’t, you won’t get your stories straight, and you’ll both be shot in the head by that Yakuza member because you can’t agree on how you met in some alternate universe. And then Sugawara will have to cry over your dead body, and say that he should’ve asked sick Ennoshita-kun in the first place, or even me, Tobio—_

Right, right. That was _it._

Tanaka walked past a street- vendor selling okonomiyaki, and the smell drew his eyes over to the food. God he was hungry, but the line was long. His tiny apartment was the next block up. He’d get home, send the text off, and then order in. Maybe he’d try that new pizza place a few blocks down. Treat himself for being such a goddamn ace.

He picked up his pace, tugging the black beanie down over his ears and pushing up the strap of his backpack looped over his shoulder. 

He was still surprised by the silence when he unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside, shrugging off his coat and scarf, tossing his beanie and backpack in the vague direction of the lounge. He lived with Saeko, but she’d been hiking through South America for a month now, and went to the North this week. She wouldn’t be back until the end of October. 

His sister wasn’t a large person, but somehow she made the two-bedroom flat feel a lot fuller with her presence. He missed her cinnamon soap scent, the chatter of cartoons she liked to watch late at night, and the 90s Japanese ballads he’d wake up to her singing obnoxiously loud from the kitchen as she made (burned) pancakes. He even missed the way she left her things all over the coffee table and bathroom dresser, like magazines and leather jackets and nail-polish; stuff that was so different from his own, yet so familiar, that it was actually nice, and reminded him of home.

He stepped onto the tiled kitchenette space, and the sound of his boots rebounded. Tanaka couldn’t stand the emptiness of the apartment. Silence was like a lethal injection to him, pressing into his brain. He needed noise to think, needed chaos and adrenaline and motion to be sane. 

When he was younger, Tanaka wouldn’t have been able to handle sitting still as much as he did at the police station, albeit he avoided it like the plague. In that respect he was a lot like Kageyama and Daichi (and, he hated to admit it, maybe Nishinoya). It was why Ennoshita and Sugawara shouldered much of the sedentary work around the station, like perusing police records, retrieving contacts and addresses, tracing phone calls, analysing data, etc. Tanaka and Kageyama were far more likely to be on the balls of their feet, moving from location to location. Daichi liked to call them a pair of bloodhounds. Both jobs were equally important parts of police-work. But Tanaka thought he was only really cut out for one, and envied all-rounders like Suga and Ennoshita.

He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and plunked himself down on the sofa, rubbing his eyes. The piece of furniture had a dip in the middle from overuse, and with just one person, it sunk so low he felt the hard underside. He resisted a sigh, and pulled out his phone. 

What the hell was he meant to write? 

Treat it like any other work job, Ryuu, he told himself. Be professional. Don’t be a scoundrel. Think of what Saeko would tell you to do if she was here. 

From: Me

_hi, this is ryuu._

He backspaced. That sounded far too much like he was trying to make friends. 

From: Me

_its tanaka ryuunosuke. are you free on saturday at 2pm to run over the details of the mission?_

Hopefully that time would be okay with the guys at the station. He hesitated, then pressed the send button. Good. He hadn’t lost his cool. He hadn’t sent anything snarky. He’d show Nishinoya Yuu how much he’d matured since they were last together, two years ago. 

_But it hadn’t been two years ago, had it? They’d bumped into each-other one more time._

Something in Tanaka itched. And— oh. Was that dissatisfaction? That was bad.  
Especially without Saeko here to confiscate his phone, order a meal for him, and force him to have a nice early night without any interruptions. But Saeko wasn’t here.  
Ah, he just couldn’t resist, could he?

Tanaka’s leg bounced as he typed in another line of text, then another one, and hit send quickly.

Then he bounced up from the lounge and pulled off his shoes, searching for the pizza number on Google. 

From: Me 

_im only doing this for sugawara.  
dont think ive forgotten how you let oikawa tooru get away right under our noses. _

-x-

At 2am Tanaka’s phone screen lights up, flooding his bedroom with white light and a dinging sound (he’d forgotten to switch it to silent) that has him swearing and stumbling out of a nice dream, with a nice pair of legs and a nice chest and nice lips. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the notification won’t stop pinging every three minutes until he dismisses it. So Tanaka pushes the burning pit in his stomach aside for a second to check the screen, bones cracking up his shoulders as he reaches. 

From: Shugo-shit*

_huh  
funny, i thought the sound of my phone was death tolling  
send me the location, asshole. _

Tanaka felt his hand fist around the phone. Well, that was one way to kill his hard-on.  
He had to remind himself that this half-inch thick device could very well break beneath his strength, and his grip loosened. He nearly made the mistake of texting back, and swore as he almost opened the message. Let him wait. He couldn’t let Nishinoya Yuu know he’d disturbed his precious sleep. Another message suddenly pinged onto the screen. 

From: Shugo-shit

_also, that’s weird,  
thought You were the one he hand cuffed to the table….  
with your own cuffs? _

Tanaka growls, more or less _flings_ the phone across the room, where it thunks against something hollow and metal— probably his desk lamp— and rolls over, begging for sleep to come and drown him.  
Please let him bare this, he pleads. Please let him not fuck this up.

* ‘Shugoshin’ is the romanised Japanese translation of ‘the Guardian Deity’ aka Daichi’s nickname for Noya. Tanaka is clearly very mature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHh thats the end of the first chap!! I don't know how often I'll update this but since we're on lockdown... often-ish?  
> In the next they'll finally meet...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go!! one Ryuu and one Noya are gonna finally meet.... please pray they don't blow something up in the process 
> 
> (sorry if there are typos/ issues with formatting I've barely beta-ed it...)

It’s Saturday, and Tanaka is already jittery as he pours himself black coffee and pokes around the fridge for something to eat. Normally, he would’ve had people over on a Friday night, but he’d been so tired yesterday that he’d pretty much dropped dead at the sight of his bed, in his jacket and all. 

He’d woke up at 5am with sweat trickling down his armpits, completely overheated, with a cotton-feeling in his mouth. He’d showered, brushed his teeth, and tried to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep but resorted to watching anime on his computer when he remembered what day it was, and was suddenly too amped up to snatch a wink. 

When he leaves the apartment, he calls Ennoshita- who, he’d been informed, was doing the final briefing, not Suga. Tanaka liked Ennoshita. He was no-fuss, in a reliable and solid way. They were the same age, but the other man seemed a few light years ahead of Tanaka in organisation and self-control. Not that Ennoshita didn’t have a fun side (Tanaka would place bets that he was more fun on a night out though. Just a little.). 

He was particularly notorious at karaoke, when there was sake running through him, and his police-badge was long cast to the side, but Tanaka had endured a few too many nights pressed against his pillow with his ears ringing to find much pleasure in the idea anymore. (Well, probably not quite.) 

But today he’d be all business. And Tanaka needed some reassurance, a rock to cling to, right now, as he walked to the train station. _Ennoshita is gonna tell you you’re a big wuss, and that he knows you’ll get your shit together. How’s that for a pep-talk?_

“Oh, Ryuu,” Ennoshita’s voice is bright and sharp through the phone. “Morning!” 

“Morning,” he replies, swallowing his nerves. “Are… you on your way?” 

He won’t straight out admit that he doesn’t want to be there alone, because what if he’s left to make conversation with Nishinoya? They’d escalate into hell and be kicked out before Ennoshita even arrived. 

“Mhm, I am,” he hums. “How are you feeling?” He pauses. “I was there, that night, with Aoba Johsai…” 

Tanaka winces. “So you saw it.” The silence confirms this.  
Tanaka starts to descend the train-station steps. “Good thing I’ve redeemed myself since then though, huh?” He adds, trying to sound cocky to cover up his nerves. And maybe the lingering guilt of letting Oikawa Tooru get away. 

“Don’t get too cocky, five-ace,” taunts Ennoshita. “I’ll see you at 10.” 

“I’ll try,” sings Tanaka. “See ya.” He hangs up, and runs for the train.

-x-

To put it in short, Tanaka and Nishinoya are messy. Their past is a series of unfortunate encounters, starting from those three months at police training camp. Nishinoya had tripped him over in the middle of the dining hall right at the feet of their instructor, while holding a tray full of curry rice. It’s so, so stupid, if Tanaka properly thinks about it. Not that he lets himself. But from then on, it was pretty much a battle to the death. 

Sometimes, it seems like they’re doomed to run into each-other again and create chaos, one way or another. Some curry rice isn’t the only divide between the boys-turned-men.

But the worst of them all was that evening in December last year. Tanaka still remembers it, crystalline. The bust at the Oikawa Mansion— Oikawa Tadashi, Tooru’s grand-father. He, along with the other members of the Organised Crime Division, had needed back-up after their plan to trap the leader of Aoba Johsai, one of the few dominant Yakuza gangs in Tokyo, and take-down the entire pyramid from the top, had failed miserably. 

Somehow, the gang had caught wind of the plot, but they were too deep in to let it be foiled. So naturally, they’d called in Nishinoya Yuu from the Criminal Affairs 1st Investigation Division down at Shinjuku Police Station, and a few brawny, experienced guys like Azumane for extra muscle power.

So he’d been right in the goddamn Mafia Prince’s bedroom (or, one of them; he had several, across Tokyo), with said Mafia Prince, and one Nishinoya Yuu. Two police against one criminal, out- numbered. Not just any police too, but some of the few _aces_ within the Tokyo Organised Crime Division. The sort that the other divisions, including their own, liked to talk about. (Yes, Noya’s nickname was ‘Guardian Deity’ (Shugoshin) just like he’d come to be Five-Ace, and it annoyed Tanaka like nothing else in this world, except maybe Ushijima Wakatoshi from the PSIA). 

Of course, it just had to be them. When everyone was counting on them. No wonder Nishinoya still had a chip on his shoulder about it; so did Tanaka. He doubted he’d ever get over it while the other man was still around to remind him, through his presence, or quite literally, now he had his number.

And yet, somehow, Sugawara and Daichi and everyone else trusted them enough to put them on a mission together again. The pressure was ridiculous. Tanaka just hoped Nishinoya was as disturbed by it all as he was. 

Because if he wasn’t…. Well, if he wasn’t, Tanaka wouldn’t quite know what to do, or rather _think_ , of the other man. After all, could Nishinoya Yuu have _really_ changed?

-x- 

Tanaka was purposely late to their meeting at the cafe. 

It was a small coffee shop in Hatagaya that he’d picked specifically for its banality. Of course, on a Saturday morning, coffee-places were bound to be busy, but it was okay; a small crowd would mean they were less likely to stand out anyway. 

He walked in slow motion to the front of the shop, checking his phone every second step for a text from Ennoshita to tell him he’d arrived. He hadn’t. But it seemed neither had Nishinoya, as he entered the place, wincing at the creak of the door as he pushed it open, and glanced around. 

It wasn’t a favourite of his or anything— he couldn’t have anyone recognising him of course— he just remembered it being close to where he and Saeko used to live when they first moved to the city from the country. Tanaka contemplated ordering his second coffee of the day but decided he was already too jittery inside, and took a green-tea instead. 

He took a seat that wasn’t near a window. The chair was squishy, and smelled like jam, or something. 

He checked his phone profusely, witnessing each second flip over on the digital clock, resisting the urge to call someone, do something. The barista was shooting him concerned looks at one point, and that’s when he realised he probably looked like his head was about to explode. Tanaka breathed in, and exhaled. _Channel Kageyama or something, you dumbass_.

By the time the door swung open— and this time it wasn’t just another mum or business-man— seven minutes had passed. Seven minutes of hell.

Of course he saw Nishinoya Yuu before the other man saw him. What with Tanaka being seated at a table in the shadiest part of the cafe and all— but he kind of wished it had been the other way around. He wouldn’t have had to endure an agonising ten seconds of watching the other man try to find him, and forcing himself to look composed and nonchalant after seven minutes (a lifetime) of insanity. 

But really, what ticked him off the most in the space of those ten seconds was how goddamn _confident_ the other man could look. 

He was still, well— short. He no longer wore his hair all slicked up like he had when they’d first met at training camp and at the Aoba Johsai incident too, so that cut a few centimetres off his height. But there was still something intimidating, maybe even impressive, about him- if you were anybody else watching. 

Maybe his small chin and quick arms cutting through the air, sharp as a needle. There was something different about him too; older, more polished and compact, in a slick red sports jacket and black utility pants. It was unmistakable, even to Tanaka. 

That all changed when he locked eyes with the other boy though. With gold on grey-brown, and features swiftly warping into a scowl, Tanaka was reminded of just how alike they really were. 

He marched up to Tanaka’s table, and the other boy did his best to look unruffled by just how quickly he did so, particularly for someone so small— like a charging bull or something. 

“Is this some kind of joke you’re playing, huh?” Were the man’s first words. 

And there it was; the silence broken. 

Tanaka couldn’t keep the scowl off his face. Or the heat. “Do you think I’m a masochist or something?” He replied, half-whispering, but aware of how much he wanted to yell right now. “No.”

Nishinoya hummed. For some reason that set him considerably more at ease. _Weirdo,_ Tanaka thought. Noya slid into the chair opposite Tanaka. He wore a plain white T-shirt under the jacket, which he shrugged off and hung on the back of his chair. Tanaka, still in his leather jacket, felt cold looking at him. He remembered idly that insane people have irregular body temperatures that don’t account for their external climates. At least, he _thought_ that was a scientific fact he’d heard. 

They avoided each-other’s eyes for a moment, Tanaka glancing between the cafe door and his phone for any sign of Ennoshita. He sort of had the feeling of being watched, like prey or something and — oh, right. Nishinoya was staring at him. Tanaka’s knees bounced anxiously. If the other man was any kind of carnivore, it was probably something small yet terrifying, like a… a… baby lion. 

“God I can’t stand you.” 

And _what_ now?

Tanaka’s eyes snapped right back onto Nishinoya, blown wide. His mouth opened and then shut it. “I— What are you—” he stuttered.

“Why do you have to be so goddamn confident all the time, huh?” Tanaka raised his voice. And then, lowering it some as he realised that sounded too much like a compliment, added; “When you’ve got no reason to be, I mean.” 

Nishinoya quirked a dark eyebrow. “I mean, I’ve got no more reason than you do.” And then he smirked. “Though, I’d never willingly nickname myself _ace_.” 

Tanaka scoffed. He opened his mouth to say _I didn’t even come up with the name_ but thought better of it.  
“Are you insinuating we’re _equals_ Nishinoya-san?” He snapped back instead.

“Oh please,” Nishinoya spat. “Don’t call me that, _Ryuu_.” 

He stared holes into Tanaka, the gold rings of his eyes shining fiercely. Tanaka glared back. The seconds seemed to stretch, trickling like honey. 

The cafe door _creaked_. Tanaka snapped his gaze away from Nishinoya’s, locking on the dark form of Ennoshita; black turtle- neck, black straight-pants, and black oxfords, to match his, yes, black hair. He seemed to catch sight of the pair simultaneously to Tanaka seeing him, his eyes immediately narrowing. Tanaka didn’t blame him; they probably looked like two warring factions at a stalemate. 

The man sashayed over to the table and unceremoniously dropped himself into the chair on the side between Nishinoya and Tanaka. 

“Nishinoya-san,” he greeted the gold-eyed man. “Good to see you again.” 

A smile lit Noya’s face as he greeted the Inspector. It would’ve been pure and carefree, if not for the intelligent glint of his eyes. That made Tanaka’s stomach curl, the way Noya could smile so quickly after they’d just been fighting, as though it hadn’t even _affected_ him. 

He flattened his scowl into a thin, scarce smile at least, that really wasn’t very convincing, as he looked to Ennoshita. 

“And good to see you’re getting along, Tanaka,” he chirped, staring at him. That definitely wasn’t the face of belief, said- man thought. “If we’re all here”— he glanced around the table like he was addressing a board meeting of ten plus individuals, evidently just to layer-on the sarcasm— “I guess we’ll get started. Before one of you blows this place up.” 

He smiled, and it was eerie, not in a Yakuza-member-figuring-out-your-true-identity way, but in a distinctly Ennoshita Chikara way that was sort of more unsettling.

Both Nishinoya and Tanaka straightened in their seats.

“You’ve both read through the brief so I won’t be going over that or we’ll be here for centuries,” he said. “But I _am_ going to quiz you both on your backstory now, as per Deputy Sugawara’s request.” 

Nishinoya and Tanaka locked eyes. Something like rivalry brewed between them. 

_We haven’t changed at all_ thought Tanaka wearily. 

“First I’d like you to introduce yourselves, as your aliases.” 

Well, that was easy enough. Tanaka opened his mouth, 

“I’m Yamamoto Taketora—”

“My name is Yaku Morisuke—”

_Ah._ They shut their mouths just as in-sync as they’d spoken over each-other. 

Tanaka immediately scowled at Nishinoya, and found a surprised expression reflected back at him. 

Ennoshita sighed. 

“Try again,” he said. 

Neither one of them spoke; Noya blinked, Tanaka blinked back. 

“You can go first,” said the gold-eyed man, his voice even. “It’s fine.” 

The annoyance from earlier was all but smoothed from his face. Or maybe not- no that wasn’t it- but somehow, maybe Noya had found a way to contain it. Tanaka set his jaw. He didn’t like the way going first now would make him look like the the immature one, the incompetent one. He didn’t like the way Noya had played him. Or— had he played him? Was he just trying to prevent another stuff-up like last time happening? Tanaka suddenly wasn’t sure. 

He spoke. “Yamamoto Taketora. Twenty- five.” That was a lie. Tanaka was just twenty-two. But he’d lost a lot of his baby fat. “I grew up in Yokohama, but moved to Tokyo five years ago. My parents both work in property development, so I naturally followed in their footsteps. I own a bunch of buildings that directors hire out for action movies, like big high-rises and shit. I like to do Judo in my spare time. I’m _super_ into zen Buddhist philosophy.” 

“Earthy!” teased Ennoshita. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear you say, Tanaka-kun.” 

Tanaka punched him lightly. He ran over a few other details, Ennoshita nodded approvingly, and then it was Nishinoya’s turn. 

“Yaku Morisuke, twenty-six,” he started, ruffling a hand through his fringe. The motion made the gold strands float down softly to rest on top of the brown. 

“Born and raised in Tokyo, in a tiny apartment all on my own. My parents are both in the performing arts, so naturally I’m a part-time actor and stuntman. I’ve done a-lot of films, Japanese and American. I was even a stunt double in one Fast and Furious—” 

“Sorry,” Tanaka interrupted.  
He nearly choked. 

“WHY THE HELL IS HIS BACKSTORY SO MUCH COOLER THAN MINE?” 

He looked incredulously between Ennoshita and Nishinoya— who was smirking his pants off— and waved his hands. 

“ _Hello?_ Why does he get to be a motherfucking stunt double-actor with famous connections and I’m a… a Buddhist property manager?” 

Ennoshita hissed at him to quiet down. 

“No please,” preened Noya, eyes sharp and amused. “Continue.” 

Tanaka growled.

“Well, I actually think Nishinoya-kun might’ve elaborated on the script a little bit…” Ennoshita started, scratching his head. “It was convincing, but only as convincing as ‘I worked on Fast and Furious’ can be…. Which is not very.” 

Nishinoya pouted, blowing his fringe up again. “I liked that part though.” 

_I’m sure you did, asshole_ Tanaka thought. 

“Okay, so the other important thing is how you guys met. Which is the easy part.” Ennoshita smiled conspiratorially, and Tanaka had the feeling he wasn’t going to like this one bit.

“So _you_ ”— Ennoshita pointed at Noya, “were working on a film in one of your”— at Tanaka “properties.”

He paused, smiled. “You thought Noya was cute.” 

Tanaka felt the tips of his ears turn red, and balled his fists in his lap. . What had he done to deserve this? He refused to meet Nishinoya’s eyes. _Daichi-san I’ll buy you taiyaki ice-creams every night for an entire year, I swear_. 

“Then, you, Nishinoya-kun, were running a Judo class that Tanaka happened to be taking. And so you bumped into each-other again.” He paused. “One thing led to another…” 

“Stop,” they blurted out in unison. 

Ennoshita raised his hands willingly. “Got it, got it.” He dropped them back onto the table. “But you two better get used to people implying you’re a couple because you _will_ definitely be one eventually.” He frowned. “At least for a day.” 

_Yes, just for a day,_ thought Tanaka. Only for Suga. Only because it was the right thing to do. (Because, let's be real, he wasn’t being paid much extra for this, nor was he doing it just to stroke his own ego. Tanaka would like to think he’s above that, at least. His fake- fiance though? He was beginning to realise he didn’t know Nishinoya Yuu well enough to make that deduction.)

“We’ll make it convincing,” Nishinoya confirmed for Ennoshita, that totally guileless, reassuring grin plastered on his face again as he patted the man’s arm. “Don’t you, Suga or Daichi worry.” 

And Tanaka just can’t— he just can’t figure him out. 

What was it about that grin that pressed his buttons in just the wrong way? 

Could they really pull this off, or was it doomed to turn to hell?

Ennoshita sighed, his muscles visibly relaxing. “Good to hear it.” He paused. “How’s Asahi and everyone?” 

Noya nodded enthusiastically. “Good, good. We’ve got this new kid, Shouyou, who’s just incredible too.” He paused thoughtfully. “A bit of a wild-card, but he’s got heaps of potential. Gotta love the kid. Even calls me senpai.” 

Ennoshita chuckled. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” he replied. “We’ve got a new one like that too.” 

Tanaka scoffed. “Well, Kageyama-kun hasn’t called me senpai yet and I don’t think he ever will,” he remarked. 

Together, Ennoshita and Nishinoya turned to stare at him. Tanaka started, gazing back for a beat. What? Had he accidentally said something offensive? Nothing sprung to mind.

He expected Ennoshita to say something. But then, most surprising of all, Nishinoya opened his mouth.

“I better get going,” he stated curtly, breaking eye contact with Tanaka as he pulled his jacket off the chair. It scraped the floor as he stood up. “I’ll see you on Tuesday then, Ennoshita-san.”  
He bowed, and looked at the other man then. “Tanaka-san.” 

And something about the way Noya said goodbye to Tanaka struck him as... off. It wasn't until well after the man left the cafe, and Tanaka’s green tea had cooled right down, that he realised it was because Nishinoya had called him ‘Tanaka-san’. Not _Ryuu_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! 
> 
> I actually had alot of fun writing this, as you can probably tell. Poor Tanaka bby. 
> 
> Uni is quite busy right now (despite being in lockdown?) but I'll try my best to update within the week! 
> 
> \- Z <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this came sooo late its been forever! I've been so busy with uni work and slightly abandoned this... I'm still busy but I'm back now for sure so please don't worry, there will be more regular updates! I love anyone who's still reading this lol, thank you for the comments, kudos, etc. 
> 
> Please enjoy xxx

Tuesday arrives before Tanaka can blink. It’s sort of eerie, the way time can stay fixed, unbudging, when you need it to move, and then suddenly slip like a rug being pulled from under your feet. Tanaka thinks, if he could have a superpower, it would be either super-strength or the ability to slow down time, so he could line up everything exactly how he needed it, and then blast on through, fully assured in his abilities. Though, he supposes, where would be the fun in that? 

The soiree starts at 5pm, and the auction at 6. Tanaka hasn’t heard of many people having evening- time auctions; it must be a bougie thing. He’s meant to be meeting Suga— and Nishinoya— at a ‘secure location’, a warehouse or a dingy apartment he assumes. He wears his leather jacket over a thick hoodie, black beanie shoved on his head haphazardly, and timberlands on his feet. He swears the temperature has already dropped several degrees since he left his apartment five minutes ago for the train.

Suddenly, a tinkly sound trickles into the night air, and his back pocket starts vibrating. _The address of the place was texted to his work phone._ That, is most certainly not the ringtone of his work phone, no— it’s the Twice song his sister set as a joke on his personal before he left, that he’d forgotten to change back. He has to be hearing things. Surely. Or…. fuck. 

Tanaka swears, swivelling on his heel in the middle of the street. The crowd isn’t thick, but it doesn’t stop a few faces turning to look at him. 

He pulls the metal object out of his back pocket, verifying it is certainly not his black work phone. 

Great, he thinks. Now he’s going to miss his train and be late. 

Tanaka begins up the street again, singing an internal mantra of _It’ll be okay_ to calm down. It really will. It’s not like the trains are irregular at this time of night, or anything. And yet, he’s agitated. Unreasonably so; made worse by the fact he can’t pinpoint its source. 

He glances down at his phone, which he realises is still ringing. It’s screen reads: _Neesan_. In a moment, the name pushes that nagging feeling right into the corner of his mind. Saeko is calling him. They haven’t talked in…. Has it already been a week? More? The time feels longer, now he actually thinks about it. 

A smile actually touches his lips as he answers the phone, despite himself. “Neesan?” 

“Ryuu!” Saeko’s voice bursts through the phone speaker, and Tanaka has to pull the phone away from his ear slightly, just to protect his hearing.

“How are you Ryuu?” she croons into his ear. 

“Ah, peachy. Neesan.”

“I hope you’re eating properly!” she jabbers on. “Not just takeout seven times a week.” 

A guilty silence from Tanaka’s side follows. “At least… I made myself instant ramen the other night?” 

She hears her cackle from the other end of the phone. “Wow,” she teases. “He knows how to _cook_ ladies. And gents.” He can sort of feel her wink through the other end- it’s hard to describe, but they know each other like that. Tanaka groans.

He asks her how she is, and hears that she’s— as expected— having a great time. _Well, isn’t that great_ he thinks. But the bitterness in it isn’t directed at her. Not at all, really. 

“Listen, Neesan,” Ryuu starts then. “I’d love to chat but I’m actually about to start a, uh…. Very important work thing.” He pauses. “You know how it is, can’t disclose many details,” he adds sheepishly. “And I’ve left my work phone at home, so I’m already gonna be late going back to get it.” 

“Ah, that’s so you,” she tuts. “I guess I shouldn’t keep you then.”

There is a pause, where he can hear her thinking.

“Everything okay Ryuu?” 

Her voice is more soft now. He can tell she’s being serious, and Tanaka is reminded that even if his sister acts oblivious half the time, she’s actually (maybe annoyingly) perceptive to his moods. 

He can tell that, maybe, she expects a different sort of answer now than before, or is at least offering him the chance to give one. 

He slows in his speed-walk down the street. “What… do you mean?” 

“It’s just… I know you, and how you are with jobs,” she replies. “And you sound kind of shaken up, or something. More than usual.” 

Tanaka gulps. Dammit. Despite how much he complained about Saeko to others, she was pretty much the only person on earth who knew him that well. Sometimes, she knew how Tanaka was feeling better than he did himself. 

And god, she was right, he realised. Tanaka thinks about the night ahead of him properly for the first time that day. Suddenly, he realises the reason why he’d been so agitated earlier about missing the train. It was as though some part of him had decided it had something to prove to Nishinoya Yuu. That old rivalry, perhaps. 

He really couldn’t explain it, but when had anything about them ever been rational? 

Also right there, in the centre of his chest, was a feeling of intense discomfort mixed with crushing pressure— not particularly from his bosses per se, but pressure he was putting on himself to do this right, that everyone at the station was counting on _him_. (And maybe, a tiny part inside of Tanaka wonders why they bother.)

Tanaka wonders if he should reply at all to Saeko, as he resumes walking down the street. It feels like, if he opened his mouth right now, everything would spill right out.

“I don’t know, Nee-san,” he finally says. The streetlights are starting to flick on as he walks, pooling yellow over grey cement and holding torches to the dark blue sky. People step in and out of their light, and one blinks into brightness right above his head. 

“I think I’ll be okay but…. Right now, I don’t know.” 

His apartment building is definitely within sight now. Tanaka thinks, if he can get in and out without dropping his keys in the elevator crack or something, he’ll definitely make the next train. 

“Well I’m here to talk about it, you know,” his sister replies. “Whatever it is. I may be halfway across the world but you have permission to nag me whenever you want.” 

There’s nothing scolding in the way she says it. There’s maybe even a touch of concern that she may or may not be trying to mask, because she knows Tanaka doesn’t like it when she worries about him. 

“I’ll remember it,” he replies. He hopes he sounds as grateful as he is, but Tanaka has never been very good at subtly when it comes to expressing himself. He’s all force, happy or mad or just downright bored. Sometimes, especially as he gets older, he wishes it weren’t constantly so. 

“See ya, Neesan.” 

“Love you, Ryuu, mwah!” 

She hangs up first.

Tanaka puts his phone away and keys in the apartment code at lightning speed. _Now that_ he thinks, is probably the most secret-agenty-looking thing he’s ever done in his career, to be perfectly fucking honest. 

-x-

The moment Tanaka enters the location, he is struck by two things. One of them is that the ‘location’ is a swarve modern apartment, decked out in glossy wood and velvet covered furniture— so much for dingy and industrial. Why the hell did they need a place like this to get ready?

The second thing is a small figure with a blonde streak grabbing a hold of his right arm and yanking him, _hard_ , into the room.

“Sorry I’m la-”

Tanaka is cut off as his arm is nearly wrenched from his socket. If it weren’t for his physical enforcements training, he would’ve tumbled to the ground in an instant.

“What the fuck?” He says, disentangling himself from Nishinoya’s grip, or trying to.   
The other man is holding a chunk of Tanaka’s leather jacket sleeve now, rather than his hand, and Tanaka gives it a shake; he doesn’t budge. 

“I told you he’d hate it,” Nishinoya states matter-of-factly to someone; Tanaka hasn’t exactly had the chance to glance around the whole room yet. He drops his sleeve rather abruptly and then, probably just to tick Tanaka off, ‘cleans’ his hand by wiping them on the front of his own jeans. 

It’s then the other man registers Sugawara standing across from them, wincing. Ennoshita, behind him, looks only slightly more amused than his elder, which is quite easy.

It takes Tanaka all of 5 more seconds to realise that the other man hadn’t been attempting to take him down before the other two could notice his arrival. No, he was— 

“I said you should try holding hands like a couple,” states Suga dryly, walking over to them both. “I _didn’t_ say dismember him limb from limb when he arrives.” 

Oh. That. 

Tanaka looks between the three, a little flabber- gasted. He forces himself to compose his expression. And by composing his expression, he means plastering on the cocky scowl that’s somehow his defunct mode around the short man. He sort of feels his face burning; he doesn’t like looking like a clueless idiot. Really it is far too early in the night for all of this. 

“Thanks for the warning?” He says sharply, straightening his jacket. He makes eye contact with Nishinoya as he does. 

“Well if you can’t take that I don’t know how we’re gonna be all touchy-feely tonight,” he replies serenely, folding his arms. “We’ll get shot before we can even buy the damn house.” 

Tanaka sees Suga open his mouth in the corner of his eye, and Ennoshita steps forward to break them up or something. (Not that they’re _fistfighitng_ or anything, god. They weren’t sixteen or something). 

But, despite all higher reasoning, Tanaka takes the bait. 

“Oh?” he asks, cocking his head as he stares down the younger man. “I’ve always thought there was something tragically romantic about going down together though, Noya-san.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts as he observes Nishinoya’s reaction to that nickname; face briefly pausing, surprised, before eyebrows scrunch up in annoyance. 

“That’s _enough_ ,” announced Suga. He’s between them all of a sudden, and has one hand steadying Nishinoya’s chest. Tanaka hadn’t realised how one or both of them had closed the gap between them, so they were nearly in each other's faces. 

Or rather, Nishinoya was close to Tanaka's shoulders and neck. It’s embarrassing, the proximity, but at least Tanaka feels a little smug about that fact. 

“On second thought,” starts Ennoshita, “we should _definitely_ have made you guys go on some fake dates before this, but there wasn’t the time.”

He glances at Suga, who nods, and takes his hand off Nishinoya. Said man no longer looks ready to pounce on Tanaka. No, he’s got that eerily calm, dependable look on his face again. All smooth, confident brows and mouth, steady glowing gaze, no unnecessary flinches or movements. 

Tanaka remembers the feeling from the cafe; that he didn’t know this version of Nishinoya Yuu. No, not that. It simply hadn’t existed last time they met. (Had it?)

“Perhaps Asahi already told you, Nishinoya-kun,” starts Suga, “but we only got our hands on this information two weeks ago.” He spreads his palms. “It’s far from ideal circumstances, but you two weren’t picked at random.” 

Tanaka expects him to say more, but he stops, lowers his hands. Tanaka forces the objection back into his mouth. Ennoshita leaves the room, and returns with two coat hangers with black covers on them. 

“Change, and then we’ll talk.” 

Tanaka shoots the coathanger that he's handed a dubious look but accepts it. 

“Nishinoya, bedroom. Tanaka, bathroom,” states Suga. “I hope you both know how to do your own ties.” He smiles. 

Nishinoya opens his mouth. “Oh,” he says, “I didn’t realise this was like _fancy_ ” —

“Well, you know. First impressions count,” Ennoshita states. “If we can somehow help you out without being there, then this is it.” 

_Good_ , thinks Tanaka. _Because we might need all the help we can get,_.

-x-

They’re assembled around the lounge-room coffee table ten minutes later. Ennoshita sits on one of the lounges, papers splayed on the table with details about various guests that both Tanaka and Noya had both already embedded in their heads during the week. 

Nishinoya is cushioned on the lounge perpendicular with his legs splayed, elbows resting on his knees. Suga had made him take off his tie, deciding it didn’t quite fit the part of his character. There are one too many buttons open at the neck of his light blue dress shirt. 

He wears a black and gold belt and grey chinos with a matching gold watch, and one side of his hair is slicked back with gel, the rest of his fringe flopping into his face. He nibbles his lip in thought.

Tanaka kind of wishes he had enough hair to try the style one time, because, not that he’s willing to admit it, it looks kind of cool. He himself has been married with a black dress-shirt and tie, silver buckled-belt and black slacks, but there’s a silver stud in one of his ears. It glints softly in the reflections cast by his silver-grey hair. 

He’d pierced them as a dare at highschool, and had worn earrings for a few years until he’d decided it made him look too much like a punk to be a policeman with the buzzed hair. Though, he doesn’t half mind this look. Not that he’s ever been one for fashion but he knows when he looks _good_ in clothes, and likes to flaunt it. 

Suga stands by the end of the lounge, eyeing them all and radiating calm. If only Tanaka could say he felt the same. 

“Well it looks to me like you’ve both got everything you needed to down pact,” says Ennoshita, shuffling the papers into a rough pile. “Just act like a convincing enough couple and everything should go smoothly.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. 

“Oh, and remember to start with low offers like we planned. Nothing to draw too much attention, then grab it at the end.” 

Tanaka scratches his head. “I’m still a little unclear on how this is going to work,” he starts. “Surely they can pitch until they’re at a higher price than us?” 

Sugawara steps forward. “Not necessarily,” he says, looking between Tanaka and Noya. “Remember they can’t blow their cover either. You’re _both_ playing roles tonight, only you guys are the only ones who know that.” 

Tanaka glances at Noya, only to find the other man staring at him already. His expression is unreadable save the slight crinkle in his brow. Tanaka tries not to sigh. After all, the Yakuza might be oblivious, but they weren’t blind, and would certainly be on the look- out for suspicious behaviour considering the importance of the night. And a couple who seemed to hate each other would be pretty obvious. 

Suga continues; “And there’s always other ways of getting the property if they don’t at the auction. Like hiring a hitman, for instance. People go missing all the time in big cities.” 

Tanaka shivers, the temperature in the room seemingly lowering several degrees. 

“Plus,” Suga goes on, “They can’t pitch some really ridiculous price because what if someone notices it, and it gets back to the police?”

—“And we _are_ the police,” finishes Noya, sitting up straighter. 

Suga looks smug. “Exactly,” he finishes. “So you’re one step ahead of them already.” 

Ennoshita glances at his wrist watch. The silver, expensive-looking timepiece is something, Tanaka feels, would be more appropriate on the film-set of Kingsman. Although, the apartment itself might’ve been from the film, if Tanaka tried just a little to believe it. 

“It’s time to go,” the black-haired man announced, tucking the papers into a manila folder and replacing it in his black briefcase. He stands, Nsihinoya right after him “The car will be waiting in the downstairs car park. 

“But we’ll go in pairs. I’ll leave with Nishinoya first, then you two.” He looks at Tanaka and Sugawara. 

Tanaka gulps. So this is it. It’s really happening. 

“Tanaka-san,” says Ennoshita, and claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck.” And maybe Tanaka thinks the look in his eyes says he believes in him. Tanaka doesn’t know if that should reassure or unsettle him.

After ten minutes Suga receives a text from Ennoshita, signalling for the two of them to head down.

As they step into the elevator, Suga clears his throat.

 _Here it comes_ thinks Tanaka. _What’s_ coming he isn’t quite sure. But somehow, he knew he wouldn’t just leave without a word from the Deput; who’d doted on him and scolded him, who’d more or less shaped the sort of officer—person— he was now. 

Tanaka’s eyes snap to Sugawara’s.

“I know you’re thinking how the hell you’ll pull this off,” says the old man.

“I’m not—”

“Even if you don’t believe it,” continues the elder, “I think you and Nishinoya might not actually be on completely different planets, like you think. You’re pretty similar.” 

“Oh don’t worry.” Tanaka chuckles bitterly, casting his eyes down. “I’ve gathered that.”

 _—“And_ I think you might be a better team than you could imagine, too,” says Suga.

Tanaka doesn’t say anything to that. Although the urge to deny it builds up inside of him, persistent and instinctual, he doesn’t let it out. 

“Just try….” Suga’s steady gaze is on him, and holds a hint of pleading, “Try imagining you really are friends first,” he finishes. “Even if it kills your pride. Because it’s gonna be a god-awful lot harder to pretend you’re lovers while you still hate each other.” 

Tanaka chews the words as illuminated red numbers descend in the corner of the metal prism. He watches them, forcing himself to use the countdown as a sort of psychological equaliser. Each red number is his temper calming down a notch. He’d better burn them onto his eyelids for later.

Tanaka finally opens his mouth to reply. 

“Okay,” he says. “Bu—”

He’s cut off as the elevator doors ping open. 

Ennoshita stands just a metre away on the other side.

“You’re up,” he says to Tanaka, a small, tight smile on his lips. He points at a car across the sparse lot; a silver- blue Mitsubishi. 

“Thanks,” replies Tanaka, stepping out without finishing what he’d begun saying to Suga. 

He walks past Ennoshita to the car. 

“Hey!” Suga calls, and Tanaka whips his head around. “Live up to your name tonight okay?” 

He grins. _Ace_ thinks Tanaka. 

“Both of you!” 

Tanaka mirrors his grin. “Don’t doubt it.” 

And with that the two men disappear behind silver elevator doors, leaving Tanaka to his fate.

-x-

As Tanaka approaches the car, one of the doors pops open. Tanaka rounds the car to enter through it. Immediately, he sees Nishinoya, less than a metre away, in the seat beside him. 

“You made it,” he remarks as he sees Tanaka. The latter almost double takes at the smirk that’s spread over his features. 

Smoothing over his features, Tanaka slides into the backseat of the car. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he retorts, eyeing the other boy back.  
Nishinoya is silent but his eyes somehow dance with humour even in the artificial overhead lights of the car. Tanaka sets his jaw, looks away. 

The car rumbles to life, and they pull out of the lot, inching their way to where distant, fading rays of sunlight are falling through the opening of the car park. 

“I was just talking to our driver,” Nishinoya starts up again, after a pause. “It seems you guys know eachoth—”

“ _Kageyama-san?_ ” Tanaka exclaims, eyes finally settling on the raven-haired figure in the front seat who definitely didn’t look like Takeda, their usual get-away driver. 

The raven-haired figure in the driver’s seat whips his head around. _“What about it?”_ he shoots back, an eyebrow raised precariously. “Takeda had a wedding to go to.” 

Tanaka splutters. “Are you even old enough to drive?” Which, he is, obviously, but Tanaka isn’t even sure he’s mocking him when he says it.

The younger boy turns back around, and scowls through the rear view mirror. 

“You better be careful,” he taunts as he pulls up the ramp and onto the twilit road. “Your life is in my hands right now, you know.”

Tanaka’s lips curl up despite himself, and he puts a hand to his chest. “Scary,” he mocks “Oh please don’t drive us into a lake, _Kageyama-kun_.”

Kageyama cackles— well, Tanaka thinks he cackles, but really it could be just Kageyama’s default laughter. Kageyama could be laughing at a sneezing puppy or a criminal begging for mercy and it would probably sound the same— at least Tanaka thinks so. 

They drive through a few back streets crowded with similar, monotonous high-rises, thousands of squares of light slowly blinking on in their otherwise drab concrete faces. They remind Tanaka of watching someone’s features slowly light up with recognition.

In the silence as they drive, and drive, Tanaka feels the gap between him and Noya widening like a dark, uncertain space, no longer bridged— however shakily— by taunting and teasing. They should be talking. They should be preparing. Shit. If Tanaka’s train of thought isn’t stopped right now, he’ll quickly go into overdrive. 

In fact, he’s so absorbed in his own head he doesn’t realise the eyes on him at first, in the darkness of the backseat. Until he does. It’s this odd, spine- tingling feeling. Unsettling. Tanaka doesn’t meet them, waiting for the other man to speak up. When it’s clear he simply won’t, Tanaka rolls his own eyes, and turns to meet Nishinoya’s gaze.

“Cut the creepy staring okay?” He states. And maybe it comes out harsher than he intends to, but whatever, that doesn’t matter with him, right? And yeah, he’s definitely seeing things when he notices Nishinoya flinches slightly.

“If you want to tell me something, just do it,” Tanaka adds, a little bit more gently anyway. 

_“Try to be friends first.”_ Sugawara’s voice pervades his mind. _“Just try…”_

Nishinoya nibbles his lip. Tanaka clenches a fist.

“Okay, yeah,” the smaller man states matter-of-factly. “Should we practice anything?” 

Tanaka blinks. “For what exactly?”

“Being a couple, I mean.” Nishinoya clears his throat. 

“Oh, I-” Tanaka starts, “I knew that. Yeah. ‘Course.” 

And yet, despite Suga’s forewarning, he realises he, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, isn’t prepared to fathom actually acting like a couple with this man in under an hour. (Much less right now). 

He looks over at Nishinoya again. Actually, no, he’s still looking at him, but he stops spacing out. 

“Should we hold hands again or something?” He tries, wincing at the meekness of his tone. He extends a hand, much more like an awkward handshake than anything passing as intimate.

Nishinoya rolls his eyes now, slapping his palm away. “You know, for someone so bloody loud you’re a terrible flirt.” 

Okay, now _that_ made his blood boil a little. He’d tried, okay? And did he see Nishinoya initiating anything? No. 

He yelps when, all of a sudden, something warm, smooth slides into his left hand. Tanaka glances down. 

He really, really, shouldn’t be surprised to see Nishinoya’s hand in his but the image is jarring. He tries to drag his gaze away from it, and not dwell on how delicate the younger’s hand looks in his one.

“Ooh,” Noya croons, “Like it that much?” 

Tanaka scowls. And then, never one to pass up a competition when challenged, boldly intertwines their fingers. 

He looks at Nishinoya defiantly as he does so, his lips tugging up in the corners as the younger boy evidently tries to contain his reaction. The tips of Noya’s ears are surprisingly pink, thinks Tanaka.

“I guess you aren’t as bad at this as I thought,” the younger mumbles, looking away. Tanaka doesn’t read into it. Maybe he does have half the mind to wonder where the cool, calm _composed_ Nishinoya had gone from before. 

But really, he is so immersed in the glee of the victory trickling through him, that he completely forgets they’re not the only ones in the car.

Until a voice shatters it. 

“If you two flirt for one more second I really will drive this expensive car over a cliff and neither of you will be able to mourn me because you’ll be dead too,” deadpans Kageyama as they speed through an orange light.

Tanaka and Noya spring apart to their sides of the car like impelled magnets. 

“Oh just shut-up and drive, you jackass,” Tanaka snaps. 

And then grumbles, “I wish we could actually have a drink at this thing, not just pretend to.” 

Maybe he imagines it, but he hears Nishinoya chuckle from the seat beside him.


End file.
